I truly despise popcorn ceilings. That bumpy, dingy texture that yells, “1983 had a terrible sense of style!” has haunted me throughout my adult life. Every rental that fits my budget in the neighborhoods I want to live in has featured these dreadful ceilings. As I lie in bed at night, gazing up at the imperfect ceiling of our current place, I often dream of owning a home again someday. One day, I’ll have smooth ceilings, and it will be fantastic.
For now, my partner and I are among the 37% of Americans who rent their homes. What we initially thought would be a temporary situation has turned into a much longer journey. The housing market crash occurred shortly after we purchased our first home, a decision that ultimately damaged our credit — just like it did for many others. Right now, we have no choice but to rent. And if I hear one more person say, “But buying is so much cheaper!” I might just lose it. Yes, I’m aware it’s more financially sound to purchase a house rather than paying someone else for a home that will never be ours. It’s just that no one is willing to lend us the money to buy one.
I don’t enjoy tossing away $18,000 every year. Rental prices in our area are sky-high due to the excellent public school my children attend. While rent is lower in other places, so is the quality of the schools. Thus, we make it work. I’d rather spend that money on laser treatments for spider veins or enrolling my kids in summer camp. With $18,000, we could have a fantastic vacation in Hawaii or even invest in permanent eyelash extensions. Or — holy cow! — we could get rid of some of my husband’s unwanted hair. I could save it or even buy a cow.
But instead, we use our funds to keep a roof over our heads. Our doors are scratched from the previous tenants’ dog, and I sometimes worry that guests think we did it. Our oven is too small for a standard cookie sheet, but that’s fine; I don’t have the time to cook anyway, and the last time I tried, I nearly burned the house down.
I can’t stand the color beige, which seems to be the default for rentals. I also dislike mauve, forest green, and wallpaper — all staples in the rental market. There’s always a twinge of regret when I tell people we’re renting, as it feels like a failure. Shouldn’t we be homeowners? Isn’t that the American dream — owning something and having the freedom to change it as we please, like scraping away that awful 1983 ceiling without fearing we’ll lose our $1,600 deposit?
Even though it sometimes feels like we’re not doing adulthood correctly, I’ve come to understand that renting doesn’t equal failure. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Years spent beneath popcorn ceilings have changed my perspective. I used to feel embarrassed about our situation, but now I’m just grateful to have shelter. Maybe it’s maturity, or maybe I’ve simply stopped caring. Either way, the American dream is evolving, and so are our values. What once mattered doesn’t hold the same weight anymore, and that’s liberating.
Renting has its advantages and disadvantages. My partner and I aren’t exactly handy, and since we rent, it’s not our job to fix the gutters when they get knocked down by a fallen branch. We’ve been lucky to have great landlords who seem just as happy to have us as tenants. Since we rarely request anything, they respond quickly when we do. If you take care of the property, the owner is likely to take care of you.
To be honest, our kitchen light was fixed much faster by our landlord than it would have been if my partner had been in charge of it, and every time our air conditioner breaks down, I’m relieved that we don’t have to pay for repairs. When our kids found termites in the fence post, it wasn’t our problem, and when our neighbor wanted to split the cost of replacing the backyard fence, I happily directed him to the owner. As a mom managing three kids, it’s nice to say, “That’s not my responsibility.”
Renting isn’t a forever situation. It gives us the opportunity to think about what we truly want in our next home, should we decide to buy again. I like to think that living in less-than-perfect situations, and even struggling to pay rent at times, builds character. Most importantly, I recognize that we’re fortunate to have a roof over our heads.
In the grand scheme of things, popcorn ceilings aren’t that significant.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the experience of renting and the feelings of inadequacy that can accompany it. The author discusses the challenges of living in a rental with outdated features, like popcorn ceilings, and the financial strain of renting. However, she comes to appreciate the benefits of renting, including not having to handle maintenance issues, the opportunity to save for the future, and a growing sense of gratitude for having a home. Ultimately, the piece emphasizes that renting does not equate to failure and that the traditional American dream is evolving.